


The Tales of Baby B: Practical Guide for Saving the World One Miracle - Or Curse - at a Time

by charis_chan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Hermione Granger, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Grey Harry Potter, Grey Hermione Granger, Harry Potter & Adam Young are bff, Harry might be asexual - still undecided, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter are Siblings, Hermione Granger & Warlock Dowling are bff, Hermione will end up with a woman (yet to be decided who), M/M, crackfic, kinda wrong-boy-who-lived, let's pretend it's happening in the near present, slow burn when it comes to our angel and demon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis_chan/pseuds/charis_chan
Summary: It would be nice to think that the Satanist Nuns had the surplus baby – Baby B – discreetly adopted. That she grew to be a normal, happy, laughing child, active and exuberant, and after that, grew further to become a normal, fairly contented adult.And perhaps that’s what happened.But it wasn’t.Not entirely.There was no junior school prize for spelling; no unremarkable although quite pleasant time at university; there was not a job in the payroll department of the Tadfield and Norton Building Society; nor a lovely husband. There were no children – although a lot of hobbies, which did not include restoring vintage motorcycles nor breeding tropical fish.One does not want to know what could have happened to Baby B.We like what happened to her better, anyway.She certainly did not win prizes for her tropical fish.Or,The one in which Crowley’s love for children shines through and Baby B lives a happy childhood, got sent to a boarding school and helped saving the world from yet another nearpocalypse. One miracle - or curse - at a time.Oh, and Aziraphale adopted one Harry Potter.(Crackfic. Not to be taken seriously.)
Relationships: Aziraphale (Good Omens) & Harry Potter, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) & Hermione Granger, Harry Potter & Adam Young, Harry Potter & Warlock Dowling, Hermione Granger & Adam Young (Good Omens), Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Warlock Dowling
Comments: 5
Kudos: 144





	1. The Begining

**Author's Note:**

> I love the stories where Harry is taken in by the Ineffable Husbands, so this is my take on that.
> 
> It'll be Harry and Hermione centric.
> 
> Updates will be sporadic due school and general RL stuff, but I'll try to write as much as I can as often as I can.
> 
> Unbeta'd.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Harry laid, staring up at the new – yet familiar – ceiling. He was unable to fall asleep. Too much had happened in the last couple of weeks and it was finally catching up with him.

It all started when Uncle Vernon had told him about the important business partner that was to diner with them that Friday. And of course, by them, he had referred to Aunt Petunia, Duddley and himself. Harry had been warned to stay out of sight and quiet during the evening as Uncle Vernon worked to ensure “the contract of the year”.

And Harry had been happy to obey. Spending the evening on his own, petting Hedwig and reading Duddley’s forgotten comics was a rare treat.

But, well, then Dobby happened.

Everything had been a mess once the elf appeared in his bedroom, showing him his undelivered mail and being a general pest. Making noise could have been passed off as him being careless – maybe – but dropping a cake right on Mrs. Young… well…

Uncle Vernon has not been happy.

And neither had been Mr. Young and his son.

The fear of whatever punishment Uncle Vernon had planned on delivering the next day paled next to the fright that had been waking up in the middle of the night to an irate boy, with red eyes, demanding to know exactly why Harry had dropped a cake on his mum.

Harry turned in the comfy, wide bed and snuggled deeper on the fluffy duvet and even fluffier pillow. He was still not sure exactly what he had said to convince Adam that no, it had not been him, and that please, it had been an elf trying to prevent Harry from returning to school that had made Adam’s eyes stop glowing as he sat on his bed and started questioning Harry about it all.

They had spoken for what felt like hours about Hogwarts and magic – after receiving a warning from the Ministry Harry was weary about talking about it all, but Adam’s eyes _glowed_ , he had to know about magic, right – and in that time Adam had noticed the recently added locks to his door, the flap door, the bars on his window and the state his room was. His questions had soon started drifting towards other matters – Harry’s home life, his clothes, his wobbly bed, his relative and, strangely enough, his scar – and Harry, for the second time in his life, had felt compelled to answer truthfully. And, for the first time in his life, he actually had done.

Harry had confessed about the abuse, about the pain, about the lies, about how he was an orphan, about how he almost died at school, about how he almost got his best friends killed too. He had spoken about it all, almost in just one breath, and by the end of it he had been so exhausted, yet so, so, so _free._

And Adam had smirked and at the time Harry felt like grinning too and so, when Adam said, “do you want to leave here?” he hadn’t had to think about it.

He had said “yes”.

And Adam had helped him pack and he had proved that he had to know magic – or at least at the time it had felt like magic – as he opened his door’s locks and helped him steal his trunk with just his mind and hand movements. It had all been so similar to the magic Hermione was able to do during the term that he had not stopped to think when Adam offered him his hand and willed them away in the blink of an eye…

Harry sighed, covering his head with the covers and willing himself to relax his racing mind. What’s done is done. He now knew better to trust what Adam did, or offered to do, without asking several questions, even when he had come to trust Adam with his life.

If Harry had asked those questions, he wouldn’t be so bloody anxious right now.

But, then again, if he had, he wouldn’t have meet Aziraphale and his bookstore. He wouldn’t had opened up for the second time in one night about his life and he wouldn’t have been taken in by the angel with promises of never been sent back to the Dursleys.

And he would had lived all his life with a piece of You-Know-Who’s soul attached to his forehead.

Harry rubbed at his scar. Will the ritual that was to be preformed the next day make the scar go away? Or will it stay behind as a reminder of how evil He-Shall-Not-Be-Named truly was?

He sorely hoped the scar was gone come tomorrow’s night.

Aziraphale had said that he was unable to get rid of the ‘stain’, as he called it, but that his good friend was due to return to the country the next day and that he would be more than capable of performing the ritual with minimal repercussions… whatever that meant. Otherwise, Aziraphale had told him, he would had removed the piece of soul the very first moment Harry set foot on the bookstore.

“An evil such as that shouldn’t ever exist, in the first place,” he had said gravelly, only to add jovially, “but if someone knows how to do it, it shall be a demon, don’t you think?”

Because, of course an angel has a demon for a best friend.

Harry couldn’t wait to go back to Hogwarts and tell Ron and Hermione all about his strange summer and how happy and right he felt near Aziraphale.

And so, Harry had spent the last couple of weeks doing his homework and helping around his new guardian’s store, waiting on the demon that was due to arrive tomorrow. Adam visited daily, around teatime. More often than not he showed up alone, but Harry had meet Pepper and Brian once each and he had heard enough about Wensleydale to like the Them. He wanted to visit Lower Tadfield to play with them, a fact that was prevented until now due the fact that, well, he had no real reason to _appear out of nowhere_ in a village so small and close-knitted as was Lower Tadfield.

But, if everything went to plan tomorrow, then Harry could easily start playing with them everyday if he so wanted.

Crowley, Aziraphale’s demon friend, was set to acquire a house in the village once he was back and then, _then_ , Harry would have an excuse to visit him and officially meet Adam, the closeted antichrist.

Harry snorted as he turned in his bed above Aziraphale’s bookstore. Who would have thought it possible for him, the Boy-Who-Lived, to make friends with the actual son of Satan?

What he had thought was magic that first day was indeed another kind of force that he couldn’t even start to understand.

Adam had been so animated in telling him what had happened outside in the world while he had been attending his first year at Hogwarts – a story that Aziraphale had confirmed – that Harry felt like he was there, seeing the world collapse on itself as Adam willed it to.

It made Harry feel like his encounter with Voldemort was a play in the park.

It also made Harry feel like he was really missing out.

But, everything would change tomorrow.

Once Crowley removed that piece of soul, Harry’s possibilities would be _endless._

He now lived with an angel, he was good friends with the antichrist, he was almost done with his summer homework and he felt the happiest he had been his whole life.

And all of that happened because an irrational house elf decided to intervene.

Harry chuckled lightly as he felt himself finally falling asleep.

After everything that he had learnt in the last couple of weeks, whatever grave danger that Dobby was afraid of was simply dumb.

The end of the world?

Now, that was story he has so excited to share with his friends once he was back at school.


	2. Saturday

“Hey, Harry!”

Harry smiled wide as he jumped down the last couple of stairs. Seeing Adam sitting at the kitchen table was a nice surprise, one he was happy to have on this fearful day.

“Adam!” He scrambled to sit next to the boy that had come to be a great friend. “What are you doing here?”

The Antichrist smirked that smirk that Harry knew meant mischief. “Well, I come here every day, don’t I?”

Harry rolled his eyes. Even when he barely slept last night, it was early and Adam never showed up before teatime. “I mean, now, your unholiness,” he deadpanned.

Adam chuckled at the nickname. It was one that had stuck among his gang shortly after the whole nearpocalypse and Harry had taken to use it after Pepper constantly referred to him as such.

“He showed up ten minutes ago,” Aziraphale commented as he placed a skillet with eggs in the middle of the table. “Good morning, Harry.”

Harry had been so happy to see Adam that he had forgotten to notice his guardian cooking at the stove. He smiled sheepishly, “morning, Aziraphale. How did you sleep?”

Aziraphale nodded satisfied at the greeting and question, returning to the stove to oversee the bacon. There were few rules in his house, but manners and politeness were something that Harry was made clear were to be observed around the angel without question. “Quite well, thank you, Harry. Would you be so kind to help with the tea?”

“So? Why are you here early?” Harry asked again as quickly went to obey his guardian.

Adam stood and started setting the table, answering him easily. “I haven’t seen Crowley in weeks, so I came earlier than usual.”

“Won’t your parents ask where you are?” Aziraphale asked in turn.

“Pepper and Brian are covering for me. I spent the night with Brian and mum and dad don’t expect me ‘till tonight.”

Harry nodded at that. Adam always did whatever he wanted to do, and his friends always were covering for him. But, something that he said sat strangely with him.

“Why haven’t you seen Crowley in weeks?” As far as Harry understood it, Adam had spent every other day with either Crowley or Aziraphale, learning to use his power. Adam could literally pop wherever he wanted to at whatever time he desired to, so why would he hold back for weeks?

Harry poured the tea, waiting for an answer, but it was Aziraphale the one who answered him.

“His kid is back from Hogwarts,” the angel said casually as he plated the bacon and took it to the table. “And Crowley promised her a month in France this summer. She was really upset when she heard about the Apocalypse and how she missed it.”

Harry almost spilled the tea at those words. “What?”

The landline started ringing.

“Oh, excuse me boys,” Aziraphale wiped his hands and started walking to his office. “I’ve been waiting for this call. Please eat.”

Harry turned at Adam, confused. “What?” he repeated.

Adam chuckled at his fish impression as he served himself and Harry. “Crowley’s kid goes to Hogwarts. It’s one of the reasons why I believed you when you told be about the elf. You said he wants to keep you out of Hogwarts. Maya goes to Hogwarts,” he said with a shrug.

“Maya?” Harry tried to think of that name. Granted, he didn’t know many people outside Gryffindor and those he did were in his class. “What year?”

Adam shoveled a bite of eggs and bacon in his mouth. “F’st.”

“Uh?”

The antichrist swallowed and repeated. “She’s eleven, like us. So, she just attended her First Year.”

Harry frowned. He didn’t know any Maya. He started picking at his food. “How’s she like?”

Adam shrugged again. “I haven’t meet her. She was at school when all the drama happened and as soon as she was back, Crowley took her to France.”

Harry’s head tilted to the side. “You speak as if you’ve meet her.”

“I write to her often. She’s brilliant, a bit scary, but brilliant. She takes after her dad.” Adam took another bite of food and swallowed before he smiled brightly as a thought suddenly occurred him. “Hey! She’s my triplet!”

Harry blinked owlishly. “What?” he said for the third time in ten minutes.

Adam crackled evilly. “I haven’t told you, right? How I was born?”

It was Harry turn to swallow.

Loudly.

Adam’s stories were amazing, yes, but overly detailed.

He had no wish to know how the antichrist was born.

XxXxX

“Uncle Zira! I’m home!”

Harry paused in his writing once the call from bellow reached his ears. He knew that voice. He looked at a suddenly excited Adam that he practically ran from his room.

“Uncle Zira!” came the female shout again.

“Maya!” Aziraphale’s shout came shortly after. “No yelling indoors!”

“You’re yelling too, Uncle!” The voice yelled louder, before dissolving into laughter.

Harry gently lowered his quill and stood from his desk. He had been in the middle of writing his Potion essay as Adam read over his textbooks when they were interrupted by a voice _that he definitely knew._

Sighing, knowing that the ritual time was surely to come soon, he stood and followed his friend.

Opting to use the front stairs – not the ones that landed on the kitchen, but the ones that were hidden among the bookcases in the main room of the store – he was surprised at the sight that met him.

Wrapped tightly in Aziraphale’s arms was a tiny girl. Her wild curls were all over the place and her big smile was blinding. He could barely make out the rest of her features, but the tiny stature, the chocolate mane of hair and the way she was introducing herself to Adam in a rapid chatter, without breathing, left little doubt of who she was.

“Hermione?!”

At the sound of her name, Hermione turned to see Harry standing among the books she much loved. “Harry?” she asked equally as puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

Hermione’s head lolled to the side and she frowned. She turned to Aziraphale so quickly Harry felt his neck protest in sympathy. “Uncle?” she asked.

Aziraphale smiled and ruffled her hair. “Come, kids. I’ll make tea and we’ll talk.”

Hermione nodded and turn to Harry as the angel left to the kitchen. “Let’s go. I need to hear exactly what happened! Why haven’t you answered my owls?”

Harry grimaced when Adam promptly explained in his place as he followed Aziraphale to the kitchen. “An elf has been stealing his mail. He dropped a cake over mum, so I had to rescue Harry from his family.”

It was weird, seeing Hermione’s penetrating glare directed at someone else. And maybe it was because Adam was the antichrist that he didn’t flinch and just smiled, but Harry was not as brave when her glare was turned to him.

“Explain.”

Harry chuckled nervously. “Don’t you want tea?” he offered with his best manners.

“Harry James.”

Harry deflated at her tone. Hermione was a stickler for rules and order. She would be so angry at him for what Aziraphale told him could be considered more than running away. Aziraphale had said that he would deal with it all, but the possibility that she would be angry at Harry for forcing her uncle to kidnap him was real in his mind.

But, then again, this Hermione was louder and more spirited than the one he had grown used to at Hogwarts. This Hermione actively pestered Aziraphale and, with what little he had been told about ‘Maya’, he never, ever thought that Hermione and this mysterious girl would be the same person.

So, he tried to explain.

“It’s just as Adam said. An elf’s trying to keep me from Hogwarts. When the Youngs went to have dinner with my family, Dobby – that’s the elf – dropped a cake on Mrs. Young. Adam was angry. He appeared in my room at night and we got talking… one thing led to another and he brought me here.” Harry smiled shyly. “Your Uncle was kind enough to take me in. He’s been amazing.”

Hermione shook her head, sending her curls flying in every direction. She crossed her arms. “I need more than that, Harry.”

Harry grimaced. “Hermione… please…” Different Hermione or not, he had felt the need to confide in her before and, shortly after facing Voldemort, but just like then, he didn’t quite feel comfortable doing so.

At least not as comfortable as he had been around Adam and Aziraphale.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. She must had seen something, though, because she sighed. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” She looked at him from head to toe and her eyes softened. “Are you alright?” she asked in a tiny voice.

Harry grinned at that. “Yes. As I’ve said. Aziraphale is amazing!” He sobered up at his next words, eyeing his friend with a little caution. “He said I could live with him from now on, too. Would that be alright?”

Hermione frowned at that. “Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked in return.

Harry shrugged helplessly. “He’s your uncle.”

Her frown deepened. “And?”

“Won’t that make you uncomfortable?”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “Harry, no. If he offered you a place and you want to live here, please do.” She bit on her bottom lip. “With what I’ve seen, your relatives are not the pleasant sort, are they?”

“No. They are not.”

Hermione grinned. “Then it’s good you found Uncle Zira! Uh…” she looked around, almost as if expecting to see costumers in the closed store. “You do know what he is, right?” she asked in a whisper.

Harry snorted. “Of course. I also know Adam’s story.” He smirked. “Said you are his triplet?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and grumbled. “Stupid boys. Ever since we figured out who is who, Warlock says we are siblings. Figures Adam would believe the same thing.”

Harry laughed for a moment at her dramatics, before a thought occurred to him. “Wait. That means your dad’s a demon?” he asks with not a little fear in his voice.

Hermione sighed deeply and to Harry it felt like she was pitying him. “Harry, please keep up. My Uncle is an angel. My childhood friend was believed to be the Antichrist and I am somewhat siblings with the actual Antichrist… yes, Harry. Papa is a demon.”

“Kids.” Aziraphale’s soft call interrupted whatever Harry would like to say. “Tea’s ready.”

Hermione grinned mischievously at Harry before yelling at the top of her lungs, “coming, Uncle Zira!”

“No yelling!”

“You’re yelling!”

“Maya!”

Harry couldn’t stop the laughter that came at Hermione’s satisfied smirk as she led the way to the kitchen. This version of his friend was surely different.

This was shaping to be a strange day indeed.

XxXxX

“Papa is gathering things for the ritual, Uncle,” Hermione answered the angel’s question. “Told me to come here and wait for him. I guess you’re involved?” she asked to Harry as she served two cups of tea.

Aziraphale nodded in response, sipping his own tea. “The ritual is for Harry, yes.”

Said boy rubbed at his scar, passing the sugar and milk to Hermione. “I have a piece of You-Know-Who stuck in here.”

Hermione scrunched up her nose, adding a sugar and a dash of milk to one of the cups and three sugars and to the other. “Nasty.”

“Yeah,” he said as he served biscuits in both his plate and Hermione’s.

“Papa said it won’t hurt and it’d be quick, so that’s good, right?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically, gratefully accepting the sugared cup from his friend. “Thanks, Hermione.”

Aziraphale looked at both of them, how Hermione prepared Harry’s tea and how the boy put exactly five biscuits – Hermione’s favored number – in her plate. “I’m guessing you two are close friends, then?”

Hermione beamed. “Yes! Harry is my best friend!”

Aziraphale tutted. “Don’t let Warlock hear that.”

Hermione grunted. “Warlock is a crybaby.” Adam chuckled from where he was watching it all unfold. “I’m mad at him at the moment, so he is no longer my friend.”

Harry’s eyes widened at that information, it was rare to anger Hermione, and it was even rarer for his scholar, mature friend, to declare such a childish thing, but it was Adam who asked the question in his mind. “What did he do?”

Hermione pouted. “He convinced his parents to take us to the Annual Gala Dinner this year.” She dramatically faceplanted on the table. “Papa’ll make me go shopping!”

Aziraphale reached to pat her back. “There, there, dear. I’m sure Crowley will make sure to interrupt the Gala for you if you ask him nicely.”

Hermione peeked at her Uncle from under her curls. “I did. Papa said I need to attend. Something about Hell watching or something.”

The angel hummed at that. “Then I guess you’ll be attending.”

Hermione groaned at that.

Harry frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I thought Adam explained it to you?” Hermione grumbled into the table.

Harry turned to Adam. “He did?”

Adam shrugged.

Aziraphale sighed. “Adam doesn’t know it all,” he frowned at said boy, “even when he pretends he does. Adam, Warlock and Hermione were born on the same day in the same hospital at around the same time. Due some confusing events, the boys were given to the wrong family while Crowley kept Hermione and, given the nature of our mission at the time, Crowley and I spent a lot of time around Warlock… it made sense at the time for Hermione to have playdates with him and they are good friends still,-”

“ - his mum still thinks we’re gonna marry -” Hermione interrupted and was ignored.

“- they went to primary school together and spent most summers abroad. Warlock is the son of an American diplomat, you see, and so Hermione has been his date-”

“- his _reluctant_ date -”

“- for all of Warlock’s diplomatic events.” Aziraphale smiled down at the still grumbling Hermione. “Maya hates those events.”

“I hate them with a passion.”

Adam shook his head. “Then why do you attend?”

Hermione’s pout came back in full force. “Papa makes me.”

“Why?”

“It made sense at the time,” a new voice answered easily. “Maya being friends with who we believed was the antichrist was useful for us. Too bad she made real friends with the spoiled brat.”

Hermione’s pout disappeared and she dashed quickly towards the thin man that was suddenly leaning against the kitchen’s doorway.

“Papa!” she shouted gleefully as she embraced whom Harry deduced was Crowley.

Aziraphale sighed. “Indoors voice, Maya.” He leveled a unamused look at the demon. “Would you please tell your daughter not to shout?”

Crowley frowned behind his sunglasses. He deftly picked up Hermione, hooking his hands under her armpits and suspending her in the air to be at his eye-level. “Are you pestering your uncle, Maya?”

Harry couldn’t see her friend’s face from where he was sitting, but the sudden moment of dread at Hermione’s slow nod hit him hard.

Aziraphale’s rules were simple and easy to follow. Aziraphale was an angel and Harry doubted getting in trouble with him would be like what getting in trouble with Uncle Vernon… but getting in trouble with a demon?

Harry was afraid.

Adam tensed next to him. Maybe he was thinking the same thing. Maybe Hermione was living up to her Gryffindor nature by poking what could possibly be a very dangerous man.

A booming laugh ricocheted around the kitchen and with it the fear evaporated. Adam relaxed and Harry’s breathing returned to normal.

“Good girl, Maya,” Crowley said, planting a kiss on Hermione’s forehead. He easily rested her against his hip, carrying her as if she was a toddler instead of an eleven-years-old.

Aziraphale sighed more deeply. “You are a bad influence,” he commented while Crowley rounded the table to sit at Hermione’s empty chair. “She’ll grow to be a menace.”

Hermione sniffed from her place at her dad’s lap. “I’m already a menace, thank you very much.”

Crowley chuckled, dropping another kiss to Hermione’s curls. “My little hellcat.” He then turned his eyes to the boys. “I assume you’re the stray Adam brought in?”

“Papa,” Hermione chirped happily. “This is Harry Potter, my best friend. I’ve told you about him, remember?”

Crowley lowered his sunglasses and Harry had to fight the urge to flinch at the yellow, reptile-like eyes that regarded him coldly. “Yesss…” he sibilantly said, “the Boy-Who-Survived.”

“The-Boy-Who-Lived, Papa,” Hermione chastised around a cookie.

Crowley rolled his eyes in a movement that struck Harry as being so Hermione-like. “Yessss, that.” He turned to Aziraphale. “And I see you’ve finally taken a kid for yourself?”

Aziraphale huffed. “If I remember correctly, _I_ wasn’t the one unwilling to share custody.”

“And _I_ wasn’t the one wanting to leave the baby to the Nuns.”

“They were Nuns, Crawley, they surely had an orphanage in hand.”

“They were _Satanist_ Nuns, you tree topper. Do you really think before speaking?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at that comment and slid off her dad’s lap. Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale noticed her movements.

“Forgive me for forgetting that little detail. Nuns are supposed to follow God, not your Lord.”

“Their order was made by Hastur, you moron!”

“Come, guys,” Hermione motioned with her head towards the main room of the store. “Once they start arguing like this, it’ll be at least an hour before they finish.”

“By the books, Crowley, any religious order is considered Heavenly sanctioned. You must remember that.”

“But not _that_ order.”

Harry and Adam shared a brief glance before following Hermione out.

Neither wanted to witness an argument between an angel and a demon.


	3. Sunday

“So,” Hermione asked as she skimmed the papers in her hands. “Are you going to change your name?”

Harry shrugged. “Should I?”

Hermione shrugged back. “If you want to? Papa changed mine when I was around five. People forget what your name was before that, if that’s what’s bothering you. No one will know you changed it.”

Harry blinked at that. After the powerful magic ritual he had undergone with Crowley last night, he was certain that what Hermione said was real.

The demon was capable of doing what she said, no doubt, and he was positive Aziraphale would be able to do the same if he so wished.

“What was your name then?” he asked curiously.

Hermione’s nose scrunched up. “Jane Doe Crowley. Papa has no imagination.”

Harry chuckled. “I can see that. So, you chose Hermione instead?”

His friend shook her head. “No. That was Uncle Zira. He was good friends with Shakespeare and said it was a beautiful, misunderstood name. The Granger last name, though, I think Papa chose from a brand of supply motors.”

Harry’s chuckle turned into a giggle. “You’re right, your dad shouldn’t name things.”

Hermione nodded mock seriously. “I agree. So, you’ll change your name?” she asked again, motioning to the blank adoption papers that were in her hands.

Harry sighed at that. “I don’t know.” He rubbed at the now smooth skin on his forehead. “I kinda feel like I’m letting down my parents, you know?”

Hermione smiled sadly at that. “I don’t,” she said honestly. “I knew since I was little what Papa and Uncle Zira are, and what they were trying to do with Warlock. I didn’t know his parents are my biological parents and, honestly, I don’t feel like they are anything other than Warlock’s parents. I’ve always had Papa and Uncle Zira, I never needed a mum or anything else,” she finished with a shrug.

Harry sighed again. “I wish I had that.”

“You do now, Harry.”

He groaned and let himself fall backwards on his now turned bunkbed. Apparently, the room he was staying at was Hermione’s for when she was visiting Aziraphale, so after the ritual the night before, the angel magicked the bed into a bunk one so Hermione could spend the night with minimal fuss.

He still wasn’t sure where Aziraphale slept. Or where Crowley slept last night. Or if they even slept at all.

Harry turned his face to Hermione sitting at the desk. “If you were me, what name would you choose?”

Hermione smirked. “What about Harridan Octopus Pork? HOP for short.”

Harry groaned. “You are as bad as your dad.”

Hermione laughed. “I know.” She shuffled to lay by his side. “But, honestly, you don’t have to, Harry. Uncle Zira let you choose because, in the end, names don’t really matter. What matters is that you’ll live with him and away from your relatives from now on and no one will think that’s wrong. That’s the beauty of miracles.”

Harry poked her in the side. “Then why don’t you let Ron call you ‘Mione?”

Hermione squirmed away from his finger. “It sounds like mayonnaise. I don’t want to be called after a condiment. It’s bad enough I am named after dad’s favored motor company.”

It was Harry’s turn to laugh at that. “Fair enough. His lack of imagination was the reason you got your name changed, then?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. Hell found out Papa took me in, so he changed it, so they don’t find me again.”

Harry blinked heavily at that. “And a name change is enough for that?”

Hermione’s solemn nod came back. “Yes. You won’t believe how stupid they are down there.”

Harry hummed. “So, if I change my name… what would that mean? For the magical people, I mean. Will I stop being the Boy-Who-Lived?”

Hermione scooted closer to him. “Would you want that?”

Harry thought for a moment. Was it even possible? To stop having that moniker following him around? According to Crowley the fact that there was a part of Voldemort’s soul in him meant the man was still alive, somehow, somewhere. Did he want to be around for him to try and kill him again?

“I do,” he said. “I don’t want to be the Boy-Who-Lived. I want to have a normal life.”

Hermione beamed and jumped out the bed, tugging him to follow her out the room. “Then we’ll ask Uncle Zira for it to happen! You’ll have a normal life… or as normal as it can be with an angel as your father.”

Harry couldn’t help it.

He grinned harder and wider than ever before in his life.

XxXxX

“Harold sounds old,” Crowley commented from his spot by the fireplace.

“Papa,” Hermione scolded from where she was sitting at his feet. “It’s not your name to choose.”

Harry turned to Aziraphale. “What do you think? It’s sounds weird, right?”

The angel smiled. “It’s your choice, Harry. Whatever you choose will be fine.” He motioned to Hermione. “This one is Maya for us, no matter if she changes her name again. You’ll be Harry for us, no matter what.”

“Wait,” Hermione pipped. “I can change my name too?”

“No.” Aziraphale and Crowley said as one.

“Your name is beautiful, Maya,” Aziraphale said quickly. “You don’t need to change it.”

“And,” added Crowley, gently cuffing Hermione upside the head, “I really don’t want to know what you’ll come up with. You’ll stay Hermione Jane Granger until it becomes necessary for you to change it.”

Hermione pouted. “Fine.” She looked glumly at Harry. “I like Harvey. That way people will call you Harry still.”

Harry’s eyebrow shot up. “I kinda like that one.” He turned again to Aziraphale. “Hermione also mentioned the last name Fell?”

The angel nodded. “That the surname I use right now. The bookstore is under the name Azira Fell. I’d be honored if you choose it as your own.”

“Harvey Fell,” Crowley drawled. “Now it sounds like a bad nursery rhyme.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Papa, if you’re not going to help, then leave.”

Crowley lazily stretched his arms above his head. “I’ll do just that. I still have to get our new house.” He stood, ruffling Hermione’s hair. “For once, behave.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, Papa.”

“Listen to your Uncle, Maya. Don’t pester him too much.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“I’ll be back tonight,” he added as he swiftly walked to the front door.

“Bye, Papa.”

Once the demon was out, the conversation turned back to the matter at hand.

“So, Harvey Fell?” Hermione asked eagerly. “I like it.”

Aziraphale nodded. “It’s a good name. Meaningful too.”

Harry’s head tilted to the side at that. “Meaningful?”

The angel nodded. “Yes. Names carry meaning. Harvey means ‘worthy for battle’.” He smiled gently. “A meaningful, worthy name of the one that faced evil, don’t you think? Choosing a good name could serve you well in the future.”

Harry glanced at Hermione. “I thought you said names weren’t important?”

Hermione shrugged. “The important thing is that you are gonna live with us, no?”

“I guess.” Harry turned his attention back to his new guardian. “I like Harvey. And I’d like to take the Fell surname, please.”

Aziraphale smiled widely. “It can be done. Would you like to add a middle name to that?”

Harry blushed a deep red. His eyes drifted to Hermione momentarily. “Is it bad I want to match with Hermione?”

Said girl perked up at that. “What do you mean, Harry?”

Harry blushed harder. “It’s just…” he closed his eyes, extremely embarrassed but comfortable enough in the present company to share his thoughts. “When we were riding the Express, I saw your trunk. It has your initials. HJG. Mine has HJP… they were stored together in our compartment… and it kinda made me wonder, what would it’d been if I had a sister. If you were my sister and our parents were cheesy enough to give us matching names.”

Harry had to take a step back as his eyes flew open when he felt Hermione slam to his side in a tight hug. He smiled and embraced her, letting her burrow in his body.

To think he was scared she would think him dumb.

Hermione squeezed him. “You’re my brother now, Harry,” she mumbled against his shoulder. She lifted her head to glare at Aziraphale, not leaving Harry’s arms. “You have to give us matching surnames, Uncle.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “You heard Crowley. No name changes for you, Maya.”

“I’m not asking for a whole name,” she said slowly, and Harry got the impression that was the tone people used around little children and dumb folks. “I’m asking to have matching initials with my new baby brother.”

That got Harry’s attention. “Hey! I’m older than you!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood in her tiptoes to pat his head. “But you’re the newest member of the family. Hence, you’re a baby.”

“That’s not how it works, Maya, and you know it.”

Hearing her childhood nickname coming out Harry’s mouth made Hermione stop her patting and turn to Aziraphale again. This time, with tears in her eyes and a pout reminiscent of a kitten. “You need to give us matching surnames.”

Aziraphale sighed but nodded resigned. Once Hermione started with the kicked-puppy act, it was game over. He was fairly certain Crowley would have given in from the beginning after hearing what Harry said.

But still, he had to pretend he was the one in charge and put up a feeble fight, if only to avoid Hermione burning down the store.

Again.

“Fine,” he agreed. “But if your father kills me, I’ll come haunt your dreams.”

Hermione scrunched up her nose, all thoughts of tears forgotten. “You’re an angel, you can’t die. ‘Sides, only dead humans can haunt. Every other creature simply dies. Papa said so.”

Aziraphale frowned. “And why would he tell you that?”

Hermione smiled wide, showing all her teeth. “I asked!”

Aziraphale just groaned. Why did he even bother?

XxXxX

“I leave her with you for one afternoon, angel, and she changes her name.” Crowley scowled down at the papers on the kitchen table.

Aziraphale shrugged. “Harry made a convincing point and Hermione is as stubborn as you.” He did not feel the need to add that Hermione didn’t had to argue much, Harry’s sentiment had been enough for him to readily agree in the first place.

He also didn’t add that Crowley himself would have make the change when faced with Harry’s feelings on the subject.

Crowley rubbed at his temples. “Want to share why they chose your surname instead of mine? Maya is still my daughter, angel.”

Aziraphale read over the miracled birth certificates, school records and identifications with the kids’ new names. “I think Hermione Jane Fell and Harvey James Fell have a nice ring to it.”

“And I suppose changing the boy’s birthday to match her had a nice ring to it too?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “They apparently want to pass as twins now.”

Crowley huffed. “It’s bad enough the other two already consider Maya their sister, angel.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Let the kids be, Crowley. I’m sure Adam and Warlock will grow out of it.”

“And your boy and Maya won’t?”

“No.” The solemnity in the angel’s voice caught Crowley out of guard. “They share a bond I haven’t seen in centuries. Those two will only grow closer with time.”

“A bond you say? I haven’t seen anything like that.”

Aziraphale patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. That’s something only angels can see.”

Crowley sighed. “Then I guess they’ll want to live together too?”

“I got that impression, yes.”

“Then I guess that means you’ll come live with us? I have the house ready and adding more room won’t be a problem.”

Aziraphale blushed thinly. “If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll always have you, angel.”


End file.
